❝ he and i are closer than friends, we are enemies linked together, the same sin binds us ❞ | in which lilium snape is bound to harry potter by fate, destined to stand on either side of a war that will soon be waged. she is cursed by prophecy, or so...
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ACT THREE, chapter forty—seven : i'm not bad, i'm not good i drank every sky that i could made myself mythical, tried to be real
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Widely known fact: Harry Potter was sh—t at Occlumency.
Standing once more in Snape's office for his mind magic lessons, having his mind plundered and memories ripped free, he knew he was totally useless at this.
Harry clung desperately to a tree branch to avoid Ripper barking at him from the ground while the Dursley's laughed at him, standing in the driveway. Harry sat under the Sorting Hat, pleading not to go into Slytherin. Harry stood over Sirius, his Patronus warding off hundreds of Dementors swarming overhead. Harry cupped Lili's face in his hands and leant in for a kiss—
"No—!"
Harry gasped when he came back to reality, realising a bright white spell was firing from the tip of his wand. Snape barely managed to dodge it in time, side—stepping to watch it strike a jar of slimy potions ingredients. Glass shattered in every direction, and whatever was inside landed on the ground with a wet plop. Disgusting.
Still panting for breath, Harry pitched forward with his hands on his knees, "God, that hurt."
Humming casually, Snape merely raised a brow at the boy, "Well, you stopped me eventually. Ideally, you should repel me with your mind."
"No sh—t," he grumbled, grunting when he straightened to his full height.
"Language, Mister Potter." The professor tutted and once more raised his ebony wand, "Now, let's try again. Legilimens!"
Uncle Vernon manically nailed the letterbox closed. The whole school believed he was the Heir of Slytherin. Umbridge smiled cruelly at him with a cup of sweet tea in her hand. Lili showed him her Dark Mark. Malfoy mocked him for his scar and his dead parents and everything about him. Uncle Vernon had him by an unrelenting grip in his hair, shouting he better make himself invisible "or else"—
Snape pulled back suddenly, brow furrowed low, "What did your uncle mean?"
Panting, Harry flushed red and snapped, "Nothing! Come on, let's go again."
Snape hesitated, face looking more than usual, wand lowering just slightly.
"Go on! Do it!"
So. Snape did.
He opened a Christmas present from his relatives — a single tissue. Voldemort's cold voice when he hissed, "Kill the spare." Lili grew a flower in the palm of her hand in Cokeworth. Harry played with his toy soldiers in his cupboard. Petunia lifted a frying pan sizzling with grease—
"Stop it!" Harry yelled, panicking. "Get out of my memories!"
"You stop it!" Snape yelled back. "Force me out!"
The hot frying pan just grazed the side of his head before he sprinted out the backdoor while Petunia shrieked about Dudley's burnt breakfast.
Snape's constant mental barrage faltered, and though Harry tried to use the brief hesitation to shake him off, the professor was back with vengeance within the next heartbeat.
To his horror, his name was called out of the Goblet of Fire. Dudley and his friends taunted him at the playground. 'POTTER STINKS' badges spun before his eyes. Lili used herself as a distraction for the hissing basilisk. At the Ministry of Magic, Harry skidded to a stop and looked down a long dark hallway.
Mister Weasley was at his side, tugging lightly on his arm, "Come on, Harry!"
"I've been here before..."
His best friend's father looked nervous before getting a better grip on his arm and pulling him along, saying, "Now, Harry, I find that highly unlikely..."
Snape broke the spell so fast that Harry staggered back into his chair, and the man didn't bother asking if he was all right when he demanded, "What was that?"
Harry just gaped at him, utterly stunned before he looked down at his battered trainers in awed understanding. His scar burnt again, but he did not care. "I've just realised..."
Snape said nothing for a moment, just staring at him cautiously. Then, sounding like he was trying very hard to sound cool and unconcerned, he asked, "Realised what, Potter?"
Scar prickling, Harry looked up at the Potions Master to ask, "What's in the Department of Mysteries, sir?"
Now it was Snape who was utterly stunned. Slowly, the shock turned to suspicion when he asked, "What... did you say?"
"That corridor, I've been dreaming about it for months... It leads to the Department of Mysteries, I'm sure of it."
The professor moved round his desk, being deathly quiet (always a bad sign). After he stared at him for a painfully long time, he dismissed too casually, "There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Potter, none of which concern you."
"Really," Harry countered dryly.
"Really," Snape replied, just as crisp.
Giving up (for now), Harry rolled his eyes and scrubbed at his fringe in frustration, "I really am terrible at this."
"Yes." Snape crossed his arms and sneered, "Are you even doing the reading?"
"Yes, I'm doing the reading!" Sort of. "It's not that easy, you know! You never explain anything, you just keep saying 'clear your mind', 'clear your mind', how does that even work?!"
A heavy exhale hissed from between Snape's gritted teeth.
"You must begin by focusing on a singular feeling, preferably a positive one. If you continue to concentrate on this emotion, it should clear your mind of all else — specifically things that could compromise us with the Dark Lord. Eventually, you will build your mental shield with memories relating to that positive feeling."
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